Touch
by Eiseman04
Summary: Logan's observations of Veronica from the roof to the apartment...she needs his touch. OneShot


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Title: Touch  
Author: leiseman04  
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica  
Rating: PG-13 for language  
Summary: The need for Touch  
Spoilers: Yes for 2.22

Warnings: Don't read if you haven't seen the season 2 finale.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Veronica Mars and all characters are property of Rob Thomas and UPN.

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The young, heartbroken blonde lay in his lap, exhausted. She had finally cried herself to sleep. The young man holding her was, in a way, relieved. After watching her break down at the loss of her father, he really hadn't known what words to speak to her. Instead, he had simply held the desperate girl…and in a way she had held right back. Since the moment she had fallen into his arms after he talked her away from the gun trembling in her hands, she hadn't stopped touching him.

She buried her body into his while they had waited for first the hotel security and later the police to take their statements. During the questioning from the lackey police officer from Balboa County she had intertwined their fingers, squeezing his fingers until he was sure the circulation was cut off.

She had let go of him long enough to comfort the other broken girl they had found in the empty hotel room, naked and crying. But the moment after the girl's parents came; his girl had stepped back into his arms and began her self-induced torture. He had heard her mumble it was all her fault. Trying to negate that thought from her system he had countered that she had no one to blame but the dead boy on the street. She had shaken her head and stated that if she hadn't mentioned saying that her dad knew everything then the broken boy wouldn't have lashed out, detonating the bomb. He had no reply to that.

While they were in the car, on the way to have her checked out at the hospital – at his insistence, she had clutched his hand like a life line, silent tears continuing to course down her face. Still helpless he continued to offer the support of mere touch. The clean bill of health from the doctor didn't relieve any of his worry over the broken girl. He was glad that the stupid doctor had thought far enough in advance to provide a sedative to help the ruined girl.

Upon arriving at her apartment she had cried her self into a fit of rage. Instead of seeking comfort from the boy's touch, she had lashed out pounding her tiny fists against his chest…trying…trying to what, he had no idea. Gathering the kicking girl up into his arms he carried her up the stairs to the only place in the last year that had felt like a home to him. He wondered it if was as empty now as his heart.

Simply exhausted, emotionally and physically, he had gotten both of them no further than the couch; where he sat in the same spot she had set a year earlier and held him when his world disintegrated. The irony was not lost on him as the positions were switched. And now…now…she was asleep. Asleep from exhaustion, overload and a plethora of other emotions that had besieged her in the last 12 hours and yet, she was still reaching out for the touch of him. Her head was buried in his shoulder, her tiny hands wrapped around his shirt…seemingly trying to dig their way into his chest where his heart beat.

He was tired as well. Tired of seeing those that he loved get destroyed, tired of watching friends disappear, and just plain tired at all of the shit that had happened in his short 18 years.

He let his head fall against the halo of blonde that rose from her silken mane. He placed his hand in the silk, just touching its softness. Resting was what they both needed.

He stood, lifting the girl as though she was light as a feather, walking towards her personal haven. He laid her down on the bed, noticing the pit bull that looked so forlorn at his owner's obvious distress. Removing her shoes and jacket he tucked the young girl under the covers. Last he finally tried removing her hand from his shirt. The whimper she made at the loss of contact cut through his heart.

The shattered girl let her eyes drift open, "Don't leave me," was all she whispered.

Logan merely nodded his head to Veronica's request, climbing into bed to help her sleep. Her hand automatically searched out his heart, landing open palmed over the beat. Even in sleep she needed the touch of him.

"I won't ever leave, never," he whispered back the promise.


End file.
